


A Drink at the End of the World

by Mornelithe_falconsbane



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, M/M, Terrifically bad pickup lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-02 10:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mornelithe_falconsbane/pseuds/Mornelithe_falconsbane
Summary: Two ninja walk into a bar.





	A Drink at the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crunchysunrises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crunchysunrises/gifts).



> Happy Birthday!

The man in the bar is a missing nin. One of the Seven Swordsmen, if Kakashi remembers correctly. He’s drinking hard liquor, slamming it back like a man desperate to forget, and Kakashi could empathize with that if he wanted to.

At his table deep in the corner, so out of the way that the waitress keeps forgetting him, Kakashi is also drinking hard liquor. He’s tired down to his bones, hungry and filled with a vague miasma of discontent and anger.

His hitai-ate is in the bottom of a swamp in the south of Fire Country, the gouge through the leaf hidden by mud. No one’s pursuing him. No one knows he’s gone. Most likely, no one cares.

It’s a sobering thought, and Kakashi immediately tries to drown in foreign whiskey, his throat burning and his stomach rolling in protest. He never drinks this much, but tonight is a night of firsts, and what’s one more?

The waitress brings him a fresh glass of straw-gold liquid. It’s not what he’s been drinking, but it is what the missing nin was, last time he looked. Kakashi takes the glass, unsurprised when she tells him it’s from his friend at the bar.

When he looks up, the Mist nin’s looking at him, sagging against the bar with a boneless ease that sets off warning bells in Kakashi’s head. He’s blue, has eyes that are black on white, and a jawline that could cut glass. Kakashi wouldn’t find him all that attractive if he was sober.

Kakashi picks up the drink, makes eye contact with the missing nin, and drags his mask down to drink. It’s an invitation, and the missing nin doesn’t ignore it. The burn is sweeter, lighter than the trash Kakashi had been drinking. 

The Mist nin is huge, at least a hand’s length taller than Kakashi and weighing twice as much if Kakashi is any judge. His hair is navy blue, not black, which Kakashi realizes as the missing nin sits down at the table with him, the chair creaking under his weight. 

He pulls his mask back into place, ignoring the nebulous terror of having exposed his face. What did it matter anymore? Kakashi was homeless, every friend he’d ever had dead and gone--his face was the least of his secrets, now.

“Hoshigaki Kisame,” the missing nin introduces himself, his voice a low rumble. “What brings you out here?”

_Out here_ was an outpost a hundred miles from anywhere, in a tiny worthless country that Kakashi had never set foot in before today. “I'm on vacation?” Kakashi says, his voice lilting into a question as he wonders if Hoshigaki will buy that. He’s running away, this is just another step on the path out of his life.

“...here?” Hoshigaki asks, his eyebrows tilting into incredulous lines.

“Scenery is nice,” Kakashi answers. “How about you? What brings a missing nin out here?” He’s drunk, but he can smell the sharp taint of alcohol in Hoshigaki’s sweat--he’s not alone in his foolishness. Hoshigaki doesn’t reply immediately, pouring himself a drink from Kakashi’s bottle, and Kakashi realizes that he doesn’t care at all. “Actually, don’t bother answering that.”

Hoshigaki drinks Kakashi’s whiskey, waiting patiently for Kakashi to muster his scattered thoughts. His teeth are sharp, and he smiles when Kakashi reaches for the bottle. It should make Kakashi nervous, but he’s long past fear or nerves today. The world feels soft and off-kilter, like he’s falling while sitting still.

He can still smell the smoke, can almost hear the screaming. If he could crawl out of his own skin and leave it behind with his memories and scars, Kakashi would. “It’s been a long day,” he says, too much emotion in his words, too revealing--but what does he have left to fear? “And I don’t really want to be myself anymore.”

Hoshigaki takes the bottle from his shaking hand, and fills Kakashi’s glass for him, pouring until amber-coloured whiskey threatened to trickle down the slick sides. “Who will you be if you aren’t yourself?”

His heart beats too fast in his chest as he drags his mask down to drink, not missing how Hoshigaki stares at him (it’s impossible to ignore). “Someone else, I guess.” Kakashi can barely taste the whiskey he chokes down, his throat tight as memories threaten to resurface.

That makes Hoshigaki laugh, and he manages to sound as bitter as Kakashi feels. “Sharks are attracted to spilled blood, you know. They can smell it from miles away.”

Kakashi tilts his head, wondering if he’d missed part of the conversation. “Shark facts?”

“It felt more relevant than it probably was.”

Kakashi nods, finishes the glass, and sets it on the table with care. His fingers feel numb and clumsy. “Hoshigaki, can I ask a favour?”

Whatever Hoshigaki hears in his voice makes his brow crease and his mouth flatten into a single flat line. “Depends on what it is.”

“I don’t have a room for the night. Fuck me in yours?”


End file.
